


Auto Erotica

by Roadstergal



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, Other, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A redblooded American male and a too-eager-to-please automobile. It will never end well. Not for the bad guys, certainly. Set in Season Three.</p><p>(Originally posted to FF.net, migrated to AO3.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

KITT was very proud of his body.

Yes, the case could be made that it wasn't _his_ body. It belonged to the Foundation for Law and Government. It was just a shell that had been prepared for him. But the alternate case could be made, and was indeed made by him in his mechanical brain - a human body was just as much a shell into which a consciousness was stuffed, wasn't it? KITT had concluded, after much internal debate, that his body belonged to him just as much his as a human's belonged to its brain.

 _His_ body. He took care of it. A car did not simply run without any maintenance. Some of it was Bonnie's job, but some of it he took care of himself - memory maintenance, fluid changes, exterior cleanliness, interior cleanliness. Lord, he did have to mind his the cleanliness when Michael Knight was around! The mud, the dirt, the bombs, the food that the man ate and got all over the upholstery - it was enough to drive a car batty. But KITT made the effort to keep himself clean. And Michael appreciated it - KITT could tell by the way he touched KITT's exterior. Bonnie had built tactile sensation into every one of KITT's body panels - a necessity for sensing danger and damage, she had said, and KITT agreed that it was only logical. The fact that this left him open to the displeasing sensations of cats padding on his roof and idiot Arnolds resting their dumbbells on his hood was offbalanced by the rather more pleasing sensations that Michael stimulated. The man had a way of patting KITT's roof or running a hand lazily along a fender that KITT found - yes, _pleasing_ was the right word for it.

Of course, KITT wondered why Michael did that. The man was so difficult to read - much more so than the majority of the villains the two of them dealt with regularly. Did touch hold meaning for the man? Was that why he engaged in it so often? He engaged in it with other humans, too - but, KITT could not help noticing, almost exclusively with humans who possessed female genitalia. KITT often wondered whether these touches would be more pleasing to Michael if KITT possessed female genitalia. Not that KITT possessed male genitalia, but his voice was distinctly male. Was this displeasing to Michael? It was all terribly confusing, KITT decided. However, when it came to Michael, KITT always had a sounding board for his confusions.

KITT broached the topic during one of his usual checkups. He always felt an irrational vulnerability during these - yes, his external systems were partially deactivated when Bonnie was checking him, but he was in a heavily fortified semi trailer at those times, as well. There was no logical reason to feel vulnerable. There was also no logical reason to talk endlessly to escape the nervousness, but Bonnie had programmed in some irrationality in the name of a more human-like attitude on KITT's part. And so KITT brought out the topic that had been on his mind during his usual flow of checkup conversation.

"Perhaps we can discuss additional functionality?" KITT paused, choosing his words carefully. Then again, he always did. "I feel that I am not providing everything that Michael needs in order to be comfortable. This is the first _partnership_ I've been involved in, after all." Bonnie made a noncommittal noise, and KITT felt it would be best to elaborate. "I have read about girls, and I find it all very confusing. He samples them, but does not seem to have found the flavor he desires." KITT paused again. Was Bonnie even listening? Sometimes she tuned him out - which KITT found terribly annoying. But no - her pupil dilation and heart rate had varied as soon as he mentioned girls, indicating interest. "Perhaps I shouldn't be telling you this, but he caresses my fenders in a way that is reminiscent of the manner in which he caresses the bottoms of these ladies. So, I think you can see what I'm getting at, Bonnie. Do you think I can provide him with erotic functionality?" KITT waited hopefully.

Bonnie paused at the end of that speech, and stood there, electron welder in hand, various expressions flitting across her face, for a good half-minute before replying. "Well, KITT... you know how guys are." She gestured vaguely with the welder, then stopped.

"Actually, Bonnie, I _don't_ ," KITT said, speaking with exaggerated clarity. "That's why I'm asking you!"

"Well, they're... they need..." Bonnie trailed off, looking into the distance, one hand resting abstractly on KITT's open hood.

"Yes?" KITT prompted.

Bonnie seemed to come back from somewhere. She bent back over KITT's cylinder head, quickly. "Well, sex." Her face heated up, according to KITT's temperature sensors. Perhaps she was working too hard.

"Sex." KITT chewed on the word. A means of reproduction, yes, but there were many convoluted definitions in his on-line database. "Is that what happens during those fades-to-black in the movies and books?" KITT had come across many in his samplings of popular culture. He had initially assumed that the people in question had just gone to sleep, but context in some of them suggested that physical intimacy of some kind had transpired. KITT found it quite baffling that an activity that took up so much of the time and mental energy of the human species was so delicately not-talked-about in much of popular culture.

"In most of them, yes." Bonnie started to put her tools away.

KITT added a few items to his mental priority list. "I will have to look into this. Thank you, Bonnie. You have been a great help."

Bonnie paused, looking at KITT with an oddly blank expression. "Er... are you going to read up on sex, KITT?"

"Well, naturally! If this is what Michael needs in order to be _comfortable_..." KITT's primary function was to protect human life; however, his prioritization was rather highly skewed towards Michael. It was to the point where KITT could harm a human who intended harm towards Michael - although it pained him to think about it.

For no reason that KITT could fathom, Bonnie giggled. Then again, humans sometimes had the oddest reactions to discussions of sex. "I wish you the best of luck, KITT," she said, once she had regained her composure.

KITT never left a subject alone until he had researched it thoroughly. However, three hundred twenty books and fifty-seven erotic films later, he was still very confused. One thing was completely clear - for most humans, the reproductive act was engaged in purely for pleasure, with no actual reproduction desired. But there, the clarity ended. The rituals surrounding the reproductive act were staggering in their complexity. Complexity appealed to KITT on a mathematical level, but the heterogeneity of human sexual response took complexity a bit too far, in his opinion. Acts and words that enhanced the sexual act for some had no effect on or were actively unappealing for others. Some even enhanced their enjoyment of the act by pretending that it was being performed on them against their will.

The idea of sexual orientation was more than complex enough in and of itself, KITT pondered. Once he had accepted that the reproductive act was not engaged in for actual reproduction, the idea that it might be engaged in between members of the same sex made perfect sense, of course. However, this idea of 'sexual preference' seemed _terribly_ important to humans. KITT was glad that he had done this research - he had not realized before what a substantial faux pas it was to misidentify someone's sexual orientation. The logic behind that offense eluded him, however. It was apparent that this 'sexual preference' was not one of the simple human preferences that he was familiar with, such as Michael's preferences for spicy food or blondes; those preferences were nonbinding, and the man would happily eat bland food or appreciate a brunette. KITT had even formed a few preferences of that nature of his own, and he was quite proud of them. No, this 'sexual preference' went deeper, was more binding, and had strong societal pressures behind it. KITT was baffled. As many of the activities people engaged in involved stimulation of the sexual organ by organs on the other person that were not sexual, why was the distinction so important?

Perhaps, KITT mulled, there was a psychological interaction on the part of the provider of the sexual service with the recipient. Something like friendship, but a friendship that was influenced by this strange, pervasive idea of sexual orientation. It was all very interesting, KITT decided, and tried to put his ruminations to a practical purpose. From the reading he had done, coupled with his observations, it seemed that Michael was straight. Perhaps he found KITT appealing, but found his male voice off-putting. KITT wondered if Bonnie would be able to alter his voice projector to be female - maybe Michael would prefer that? KITT decided that he would broach the topic after a period of further observation, with this research in mind.

The further observation would have to wait, however, as KITT was interrupted in his reverie by the subject of said reverie popping the door open and swinging inside. "Ready to go, partner?" Michael asked. The question was merely a pleasantry, and KITT did not even bother with a reply as he started his engine, brought his systems fully online, and relinquished control of his automotive functions to Michael. They screeched out of the garage, leaving two streaks of black rubber on the concrete. KITT could almost hear the muttered expletives of the FLAG custodian as he meticulously cleaned off the rubber, knowing that it would just be there again the next time the pair left. It was silly, it was wasteful of tires, and it was not as neat and clean as KITT liked every other part of himself to be - but he had to admit to himself that he loved it. He loved everything about being a car; the burnouts, the fishtails, the power slides, the turbo-boost jumps, the feeling of his tires balancing just on the edge of traction as he screeched around a corner, g-forces tugging at his composite body. It was all just _thrilling_.

KITT felt the nudge of a connection at one of his I/O ports, and it had the whiff of Bonnie. He opened the port, allowing data to flow in. Devon tapped impatiently at his A/V link, and KITT opened that connection for Michael. "Devon calling."

"Yo, Devon! What's up? What's today's mystery?"

"No mystery," Devon said, gravely. "This is an interception. Four terrorists of unknown affiliation have stolen a number of munitions from a local Army dump, and are headed roughly south on surface streets. The guns they have stolen are making things... rather difficult for the local constabulary. We need you two to go stop them."

"Righto!" Michael said, as cheerfully as if Devon had told them to go fetch ice cream. "Does KITT know where we're headed?"

"Bonnie has uploaded the information to my databanks," KITT interjected. "Whenever you're ready, Michael."

"Well, let's get moving!"

Devon gave his usual, "Be careful, Michael," before signing off.

KITT flashed a map up on his display. "They are headed south on Cabrillo Highway. I suggest we take this route," KITT lit his proposed route on the map, "and head them off at the pass, as the westerns would have it – and away from any population centers."

"Ride 'em cowboy!" Michael said. KITT took that as agreement, and gently turned the wheel in Michael's hands. They flew down the tarmac at speeds that would be suicidally reckless if traveled by a normal driver in a normal car. With KITT's tires, brakes, and radar system, it was a perfectly reasonable speed. KITT liked reasonable.

They pulled onto Cabrillo Highway and slowed down. "What do they look like?" Michael asked, peering around at the empty road.

KITT accessed the data that had been passed onto him. "They are in a black pickup truck with a standard cab. It is carrying four men, all in fatigues, with black stocking caps on. I only have an estimate of the weapons they might have taken, but they almost certainly have high-powered automatic rifles and at least one grenade launcher."

Michael whistled. "That's quite an arsenal. Black pickup truck, eh? Like that one?"

KITT had already noted the vehicle. "My scanners indicate that the vehicle contains four humans and a number of weapons. I cannot tell, at this distance, what the nature of the weaponry is."

A loud, staccato brrrap sound split the air. KITT felt stings all over his hood, windshield, and A-pillar. Bullets - and from their feel, conventional ones. Nothing that would penetrate, but they would burn and itch like holy Hades for a while. "That's a pretty good answer!" Michael yelled, grabbing the wheel and yanking. The stings disappeared as he swerved KITT swerved out of the way of the bullets, KITT's tires kicking up rooster tails of dust from the dry dirt shoulder. The noise of the guns paused; KITT estimated with 98 percent certainty that the people in the pickup were merely re-aiming.

KITT took a few nanoseconds to ponder what action to take. The single passenger in the cab was hanging halfway out of the window, a pistol in his hand; two more masked people stood in the bed, looking over the cab. One of them held an automatic rifle, but the other was pulling out what looked like a grenade launcher - which would have more of an effect than the pistols on certain delicate parts of KITT's underbody.

The most straightforward action would be to ram the pickup. He would sustain little or no damage from that action, and Michael would be protected by the laser restraint system. But ramming the pickup might injure the occupants, especially the unrestrained pair in the back, and KITT cast about for another course of action. Quickly, too - a charge from what was most definitely a grenade launcher exploded too close-by for comfort, and KITT felt a sharp pain as some of the shrapnel tore into his exhaust system. He noted the dust that his tires had kicked up from the side of the road, and was struck with a minor burst of inspiration. "Michael," he said, "I will need to take control for a moment."

A little brake modulation in front and a judicious kick of power to the rear, and KITT started to circle the pickup at speed, kicking up clouds of dust every time his tires dropped onto the shoulder of the road. The occupants of the pickup increased their firing rate, but had difficulty hitting a target that was circling as rapidly as KITT was; the bullets and grenades went wide. In a short time, the air was filled with clouds of dust. KITT's radar kept him spinning in a tight circle around the truck, but the driver hit the brakes as his visibility went to nil.

"Nice going, KITT!" Michael yelled. He yanked at the bandana around his neck, unknotting it and re-tying it around his nose and mouth. He hit the Roof Left button. KITT sighed internally, but knew there was no holding the man back; he braked rapidly, screeching to a halt so that Michael could exit - well, not safely, but with perhaps a little less of a ludicrous risk. He sent a puff of air out of his cabin to clear the air Michael was leaping into; the man ran to the driver's door of the pickup, hauled the driver out with both hands, and started to pummel him.

KITT noted that the two men who had been in the back of the pickup had jumped out, and were stumbling out of the dust cloud. They regained their bearings, leveled the rifles they were carrying, and started firing into the cloud. "That will not do," KITT muttered to himself. He turned and headed for the two men, taking pains to put himself in the path of the bullets. He was irate enough at the sting they caused to knock the men off of their feet with a little less gentleness than he was capable of, and they plowed into the ground with moans and grunts of pain.

The dust was settling rapidly. Michael walked away from the pickup, looking none the worse for wear except for a light coating of dust; both the driver and the passenger in the cab were lying next to the pickup, stunned. Michael pulled the kerchief off of his mouth, revealing a broad grin. "Good work, partner!" he bellowed, loudly enough for KITT to hear him from 1.3 miles away. "Hardly even exciting!"

KITT hissed out a sigh. For goodness' sake - one of the men had been armed, and it had been two against one on top of that. "I will never understand your cavalier attitude towards bodily harm, Michael."

Michael jumped into the door that KITT opened for him. "It's only because I know you've always have my back, partner!" he said, settling into the driver's seat. "Let's tell Devon to have these boys picked up!"


	2. Chapter 2

KITT had no particular love of parking lots. He found them depressing. Before he knew how unique he was, he had tried to strike up a conversation in one once, and was highly depressed to find that none of the cars would speak to them. At first he thought it had been snobbishness, but when he found out that none of them were sentient, parking lots became downright eerie. He had tried to explain the feeling to Michael once. "Imagine," he had told the man, "sitting in a lot full of men and women, all of whom are sitting with their mouths half-open, unable to speak, completely brain-dead, waiting for someone to come and deal with them. Wouldn't you find that depressing?"

Michael had sympathized, but had told KITT he was just going to have to get used to it. KITT sighed. He noted the smooth, sweeping lines and sweet exhaust note of a red Ferrari that passed him, but knowing that she had no mind - well, it was positively _perverse_. KITT deleted those depressing thoughts from his RAM, pulled up a book from his database, and settled down to read. Michael had been invited to a party at the Army base by the grateful higher-ups, and was no doubt going to be spending a good amount of time there. KITT would not be surprised to find his passenger seat occupied by a female of the species later, for Michael to take back home and engage in some of that non-reproductive reproductive activity with.

A note sounded in the back of KITT's mind before he had exhausted his onboard stock of reading material; Michael's com-link had moved out of the building and was heading in his direction. KITT noted the position of his book in RAM and put it back into disk storage. Michael came towards him, weaving as if to avoid road hazards that did not exist. As he came closer, the airborne particulate analyzer that served as KITT's sense of smell noted ethanol in Michael's exhalations. KITT came to the reasonable conclusion that his partner was inebriated.

Michael fumbled at the door, finally getting it open, and flopped into the driver's seat. "Sorry I couldn't invite you in, KITT! But..." he laughed, "I don't think it would have worked out well. You can't reach the punch bowl, for one!" He laughed more, as if it had been a far better joke than it was.

"It's just as well that I can't, Michael," KITT replied tartly, "as it looks like I'll be responsible for driving you home.'

Michael shook his head. "Aw - I've only had a drink or two. Or three. Or maybe," he paused, "fifteen."

KITT took the tartness out of his voice. Michael had little enough chance to just enjoy himself, away from FLAG business, after all. "Just close the door, Michael - please?"

Michael has some trouble closing the door. "Dija redesign your door, KITT? I think you... changed... where the handle is, KITT." The door finally swung shut. "Just to mess with me. I would... get mad... if you didn't have such a lovely voice."

KITT was quite startled. " _I_ have a lovely voice?" Certainly, KITT had always thought so. But it was intriguing to hear that _Michael_ thought so. The man had never expressed interest in male voices before.

Michael leaned back and sighed, then shuffled a bit, flopping on his side, as if attempting to fit his lanky frame comfortably into the bolstered bucket seat. KITT gave that endeavor a 23 percent chance of success. "Yeah. Speak to me, KITT," he mumbled.

"About what, Michael?" KITT asked, still bemused.

"Anything."

KITT shunted dormant processing power over to address this request. Michael typically only asked for very specific information from KITT. Rarely did he leave his requests so open-ended, and KITT was unsure what the expectation was. He therefore felt an urge to make his input interesting. Memorable. "Well... you don't seem to be in the mood for jokes." Not that those had _ever_ worked well with Michael. "Would you like a story?"

Michael mumbled, "Yes, anything..." He closed his eyes, sighed, and moved a little more, as if still uncomfortable.

"Well, erm... oh dear, what story is appropriate for this situation..." KITT furiously searched his databanks. In the popular culture he had investigated, he had noted that the stories that were most often exchanged between those who were emotionally close were confidences - personal stories that revealed a vulnerability of some kind. That seemed appropriate, and KITT certainly had such a tale. "Perhaps the story of the first time I was ever driven?" No objection came from the driver's seat. KITT refreshed the memory, scanning it. "Bonnie drove me. I had never had anybody in me before. I know it's what I'm designed for, but it was... interesting. A turning point, of sorts." KITT pored over the memory, the inevitable comparison coming to his mind. "She drives very differently from you, Michael. She has a light touch, a very gentle touch." KITT realized the inadvertent implication of his words, and hastily added, "Not that I don't like the way you drive! She drives differently, not better." KITT went back to the main thrust of the tale. "It was just a little run around the test track at the headquarters. You know it." They had driven it many times; it was a standard benchmark, run whenever KITT was upgraded. "We did the test, and she was so... encouraging. 'You're doing so well, KITT,' she said. We did one dry run, and then the test. Men with stopwatches were there, monitoring my performance. It's nothing now, no, but at the time - it was the first time I had ever done that!" KITT scanned Michael. His eyes were closed, but tension in his facial muscles indicated that he was paying attention. KITT moved on to the bit that he had not told anyone, not even Bonnie. "I was a little - well, truth be told, Michael, I was a little nervous."

Michael laughed lazily, his eyes still closed. KITT wondered if he were being made fun of. Well, it would hardly be the first time, and he might as well finish. "But she took me through. I exceeded expectations, they told me." KITT paused, analyzing the numbers on that run. "It is odd, though - I've run that test with you many times since then, and you always break that time. You're a much wilder driver. You have a completely different style. I have to admit that I enjoy your touch. It's just not the same without you in the driver's seat."

In a sleepy mumble, Michael muttered, "I like it, too, KITT. It's... in... tense." It was not that KITT did not know this already. Hardly! The man whooped and hollered like a young proto-human on a rollercoaster whenever they went out. But it was rather... _pleasing_ , KITT decided, to hear it stated outright. "And you have a shexy voice," Michael continued. "Tell me... tell me that you like me in you." For no reason that KITT could fathom, Michael giggled.

"Well - that's certainly true, Michael. I enjoy having you inside of me." KITT's voice modulators kicked in to simulate aurally the bafflement he felt. Hadn't he just said that?

With another giggle, and a sleepy groan as he rubbed against the seat, shifting, Michael said, "Oh... I like to hear that."

KITT was becoming a little worried at the increasingly obvious physical signs of inebriation that Michael was evidencing. Judgment was the first thing that alcohol consumption affected, and Michael had precious little of that commodity to start with. "I should get you home. You're rather inebriated. My body scanner tells me that your BAC is 0.083."

"Mmm.. yes, take me hoooome..." Michael groaned, rubbing against the seat as he shifted again.

"Well - I certainly will. Don't try to drive. I'll recline the seat. Sleep a little." KITT suited action to word. The seat would be slightly more amenable to a good nap in that position, he decided.

"Mmmm. Yes, recl... recl... lie the seat down." Michael stretched out with a sigh. KITT started the car, and Michael's smile widened as the V-8's rumble shook the car back and forth. He kissed the seat, saying, "Lovely..."

KITT sighed at this alcohol-induced irrationality. "Yes, it's genuine cowhide, so don't lick it, Michael. That's not sanitary."

"You're sexy when you're fussy." Michael kissed the seat again, moving on it as if in a trance. KITT had no idea how to make the seat more comfortable than it was, so he would just have to let the man deal with it. However, the way that Michael was shifting caused a stray bit to suggest to KITT that something other than discomfort was involved in the motions, and he could not deny the rationality of the new explanation.

"The books never said anything about this," KITT muttered to himself. Then again, no maker of erotic works had found reason to consider a sentient robotic automobile. KITT put in an extra kick of speed as they flew down the freeway. Michael seemed to rather enjoy the speed, increasing the actions that KITT could no longer think were just tossing to find a more comfortable seating position.

After a few minutes, Michael sighed a long-drawn-out-sigh and snored slightly. KITT pondered possibilities; his seats were not made for sleeping, after all, and although he could eject Michael, he would have to do some interesting driving indeed to eject him onto a comfortable sleeping surface. Fortunately, data ports were still up and running at the mansion; Bonnie was working late. KITT patched into one of them. "Bonnie - perhaps you could come retrieve Sleeping Beauty from my driver's seat? He will never forgive me the crick in his neck if he stays there all night."

"Oh, what's he done this time..." Bonnie did not wait for a reply, to KITT's relief. She put down her work with an exaggerated sigh and ran out to the car.

Michael was still awake, or Bonnie would not have been able to pull him out; as it was, it took quite a bit of yanking and grumbling and jammed knuckles and knees on the part of both humans. Michael finally emerged from the car, half-draped around Bonnie. "'Night, sleep tight..." he muttered, leaning heavily on FLAG's long-suffering electronics expert.

"I don't sleep," KITT said - but he said it very, very quietly, watching Bonnie and Michael make their way towards the door. At that moment, he was very grateful that he did not sleep. He had a number of things to process, and even a sleepless night at full processing power might not suffice.

* * *

One of the good things about working for FLAG, Bonnie reflected, was the constant intellectual challenge. The only drawback to that was the nature of the intellectual challenge - namely, trying to keep one step ahead of Michael Knight. He had a way of taking out the most technologically advanced, intelligent robot that Bonnie had ever been lucky enough to get her hands on, and bringing it back in any number of states of disrepair. Bonnie had, despite her best intentions, started to think of KITT as a _he_ , not an _it_ , and it was becoming as painful to see KITT brought back damaged as it would be to have your child come back from school with a bloody nose and broken bones.

"How does it look down there?" KITT asked.

Bonnie stared up at the exhaust system. "I only did a patch job on it before - I had a new one made. Aramid-wrapped titanium. Maybe it will survive better," she sighed, starting on the painful process of breaking the exhaust bolts loose. She wondered what Michael would come up with to destroy the new exhaust. He would, she knew; it was only a matter of time.

KITT spun his wheels briefly. Bonnie had gotten used to the 'fidgeting' he did when up on stands, and ignored it. "You're very good to me, Bonnie," he said.

"Well, you're the most advanced mechanism I have ever been involved in creating. You're good, KITT." She wiggled a bolt loose and stuck it in her mouth.

"Bobbi, can computers love?" KITT asked.

Bonnie tugged on the handle of the socket wrench, trying to dislodge another bolt. She spoke through teeth clenched to keep the bolt in her mouth. "I don't know. Humans don't even have a good grasp on what love is." KITT's rambling while he was being worked on was as familiar to her now as his fidgeting.

"That's ridiculous!" KITT said, sounding almost offended. "It's one of the most important emotions, and you're telling me it's not even well-defined?" His speakers hissed with a sigh. "Well, I just hope someone is working on _that_."

A smile tugged at Bonnie's mouth. "People have been working on it for centuries, KITT." With another tug, the next bolt came loose. She wiggled it free and stuck it in her mouth next to the first.

"Hmph. Inebriated poets. Half of what they say makes no sense, and the other half is just plain not true."

"Well, they're the best we have." The next bolt came free too easily. She chided herself for not torquing it properly the last time.

"Does FLAG have anybody working on this?" KITT asked.

"Just you, KITT."

"Oh, _really_. Well. I will have to get started." He paused. "Would you say I'm in love with Michael?"

Bonnie almost swallowed the bolts that were in her mouth. She turned her head and spat them out onto the ground. "I... well, I don't know, KITT. You're the only one who can answer that."

KITT sounded aggravated, as he tended to when he came up against human imprecision. "How am I supposed to know without _you people_ having a suitable definition?" Another sigh hissed through his speakers. "Well, how do _you_ define it?"

It was a startlingly good question, and Bonnie pondered it for a minute as she finished removing KITT's exhaust. He asked her testily if she had heard the question, and she told him she was thinking about it. She scuttled out from under him on the gurney, put the old exhaust in a corner, and faced KITT, crossing her arms. "Hm. I suppose... it's an affection, of sorts, but one that's formed because the people in question are... complementary. It's appreciating differences, and the affection staying in place even though the other person might annoy and frustrate you." It wasn't terribly satisfying to her own ears, but it was the best she could manage on the spot.

KITT's forward scanner flashed as he processed this. Finally, he replied, "In that case, I believe I _am_ in love with Michael. Well, as far as the human definition goes. And it is hardly _my_ fault that the definition is so ambiguous."

"That's nice, KITT." Bonnie pulled the new midpipe out from under its wrap. "So what does that mean?"

"That's another ambiguity. I was hoping you could assist me with that."

Bonnie hefted the midpipe in her hands. A somewhat evil thought occurred to her. "Have you told Michael?"

"That is another item I was hoping to get your assistance with. If I can't get advice on human interactions from a human, where _can_ I get it?" KITT sounded aggravated again.

Bonnie slid back underneath KITT. "Humans are bad at human interaction."

"That is a severe design flaw."

Bonnie smiled as she slid the midpipe into place, holding it steady with her legs as she slid the bolts in. "I know. We're working on it."

* * *

It had been two days since Michael had seen KITT. Bonnie had muttered something about upgrades and taken KITT into her laboratory. That suited Michael just fine. He did not even stop by to see how the upgrades were going, chat with KITT, and try to flirt with Bonnie, as he normally would. He borrowed a _normal_ car from FLAG to take down to the beach. A nonsentient car, a car that didn't talk back at him and ask what possible pleasure could be derived from lying around on sand that had a way of getting into body crevices, a car that did not note the current UV conditions and advise him to wear sunscreen, a car that did not scoff at his choice of swimsuit, a car that did not analyze the lyrics of his songs of choice using algorithms pulled from the three current top schools of psychology.

A car that left him alone with his thoughts, which was not a terribly good idea, all things considered.

The morning after the party at the Army base, he had woken with a minor hangover and a faint sense of dread. The latter had lasted about half a minute, and then the memories of the night before had come back in full Technicolor clarity. The party. Drinking perhaps a bit much than he should have. Telling that woman in the dress uniform with a chestful of service ribbons that she had a nice ass, and getting slapped quite hard. Swapping obscene stories with a gaggle of corporals. And... oh yes... engaging in frottage with a robotic car, the evidence of which had been getting rather itchy.

A shower and a change of clothing had taken care of the latter, but for a day and a half, the thoughts had nagged at him. He cursed at himself internally. There he was, lying on a sunny beach full of beautiful women in skimpy bathing suits, and all he could think about was his damn robotic car. He closed his eyes, settled back on his towel, and started to split hairs as he basked.

Technically, he wondered, was it sex? Not really. He had never considered frottage to be scoring. Still, though, it was a sexual activity, of sorts. He had even used the word 'sexy.' He had told KITT that his voice was 'sexy.' Which was utterly nuts. There was something distressingly... gay about that whole line of thought. Another thought flitted into his mind. There was no physical reason for KITT to be gendered as a male, after all. If Michael asked him to speak with a woman's voice, would it be better? At least one aspect of the situation's discomfort would be taken care of.

No. The idea was ludicrous. KITT with a woman's voice? It wouldn't work. No, his personality was definitely male, and it was _that_ personality that had... yes. So, Michael wondered, shifting in the sun - I love my car? I had some kind of sex with - my car. He snorted. It was all nuts; absolutely, utterly, completely psycho. Every single aspect of it.

An idea came, as if out of the blue sky above. A very good idea. A solution. Maybe, he thought, if I ignore it, it will go away. Ignore it and pretend it never happened. The simplicity of the solution was utterly delightful. He smiled as he shifted and basked. He had gotten out of that one surprisingly easily!

He opened his eyes and smiled at a pretty blonde who was eyeing him.

He settled this solution firmly in mind when Devon woke him the next morning with a mission. He held onto it tightly as he showered and dressed. He clung to it like a lifeline as he went to the garage and greeted KITT tersely. His grip on it slipped as he _slid inside_ of KITT. The solution danced away from his grasp as he touched the steering wheel. He had never really noticed before the way the memory foam of KITT's seat molded to fit his buttocks. He shifted uncomfortably, resisting the feel of being so comfortable, so _enveloped_.

He kept his mouth clamped shut as they pulled out of the garage. He stomped on the accelerator, leaving two particularly long black streaks as they screeched out of the garage and out towards the freeway.

"How are you doing this morning, Michael?" KITT asked.

What the hell did KITT mean by that? "I'm... I'm _fine_ , KITT, just fine!" he snapped. "Why do you always ask how I'm doing? You have a medical scanner! You can see how I'm doing!"

"I meant the question as a pleasantry, Michael." KITT sounded slightly taken aback.

Slightly was not enough for Michael. How dare that _robot_ ask how he was _doing_? "Well, stop being pleasant! You're a car! Cars aren't supposed to be pleasant! Just go!"

KITT's voice turned slightly tart. "Yes. May I ask where we are going, or is that not something a car is _supposed_ to do?"

Michael took a deep breath. The ignore-it solution was not working. "Sorry, sorry. We're going to Sacramento."

"In that case, I'm sorry, too." The wheel moved in Michael's hands as KITT changed lanes.

The sense of the car in control was eerie. "I'll drive."

"Whatever you say." The steering wheel went limp, and Michael grasped it firmly.

After a pause, KITT spoke with unusual softness. "Michael - you are unusually quiet and pensive today. Does this have anything to do with the occurrence of two nights ago?"

The ignore-it solution fluttered away in the wind like an unsecured gas receipt. Michael sighed noisily. "Look... KITT, it was an accident. I was drunk. I'm sorry, OK?"

"Was it not enjoyable for you?" KITT asked solicitously. "I apologize if not, and next time, would be happy to alter any part of the experience that was not..."

Michael interrupted. "I don't want to talk about it!"

"All right."

Miles of silence allowed the thoughts that Michael had happily ignored the day before to crowd in on him. He chewed on them with distaste. Yes, god help him, he was going to have to actually talk about this. "Look - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done... what I did." He flushed. He didn't look in the rearview to see if he was flaming bright red. Most likely, he was.

"Why not?"

"It's not cricket, all right! It's not right for me to... take advantage of... you... like that." Yes, that was part of this miasma of embarrassment, wasn't it? That he had gone for someone who couldn't say no.

KITT did not seem to agree with this assessment, however. "Michael, if I didn't want your attention, you know I could just eject you."

Michael squirmed in the too-comfortable seat. "Are you telling me you enjoyed that?"

KITT's voice turned uncertain. "Well - I thought you were enjoying it yourself, so I did. However, if you didn't, it would take away any enjoyment I had in it."

"It was..." Michael's brain politely told him that it was dealing with too many implications, and shut down. "Look, this is very strange, KITT. I need to adapt to it. I don't even know what's going on."

"Do you love me, Michael?" The question was tentative.

If anything could have made the conversation less tenable, it was the L-word. Michael did not deal with it easily from beautiful women, let alone from his damn car! "Look, I can't answer that question!" He shook his head and waved one hand. "This is nuts. My car is asking me if I love it."

"I thought we were partners, Michael."

"We are," Michael sighed.

"So - your _partner_ is asking you if you love him."

"Him." Michael shook his head again. "Look, KITT, I'm not gay, which makes this all stranger."

"I was not implying that you were, Michael. I am no expert on human sexuality, but I am aware that spectra of bisexuality exist. I don't even know if your action technically would constitute sex between two men. I believe that it would be, legally, sex with a machine - as in with a vibrator. The statues are not clear. The closest I can find is a 1978 case, Tim vs..."

"I don't want to hear it, KITT. Not the legalities," Michael interrupted. Damn KITT's pedantic nature to hell and back.

"Right. In any case, Michael, if the thought of your sexuality being of a gay orientation bothers you, it is not something about which you need to worry."

"Well, I'm worrying anyway," Michael replied.

After a pause that was all too pregnant, KITT asked, "Have I caused you distress, Michael?"

That, at least, Michael could answer fully and honestly. "No. No, KITT. I caused myself distress."

"Can I help in any way?" KITT asked solicitously.

"Just... be you." Shithell, they were friends, buddies. They had been for years. If buddies couldn't handle the occasional drunken mistake, they weren't buddies, were they? And he and KITT were buddies. Teammates. Friends.

"I certainly do not have many alternatives."

Good old KITT. Always so literal. "No. No, indeed." Michael chuckled and allowed himself to relax slightly into the form-fitting seat, feeling like a key slotting into a lock. They could deal with whatever it might open some other time.


End file.
